What are you looking at?
by aesthetic-trash-right-here
Summary: Clint never would have thought that the fastest and well, hottest guy they had in this damned school would actually ask him out. Especially not like this.


"What are you staring at?"  
Clint could hear his best friend Natasha ask.  
She didn't give him time to answer though as she seemed to have found the answer herself.  
"Nevermind, it's the Maximoff guy again, isn't it?" she asked with a small laugh.  
Clint looked at her with a grim gaze, causing her to chuckle once more.  
"So it actually is the Maximoff kid again."  
When her best friend simply shrugged, the woman sighed "Barton, he's three grades below us, you know that, right?"  
Clint only clenched his fist. "Of course I know that." he said and shook his head.  
"But look at him. He looks amazing."  
Natasha chuckled slightly, a smirk gracing her lips.  
"You've got it bad, Barton." she said, quite amused by the whole thought of this.  
He didn't reply, simply going back to eating the bad cafeteria food that their stupid school offered.  
He couldn't care less what Natasha said.  
He definitely "didn't have it bad" for the kid. Not at all.  
Clint sighed quietly.  
Oh, who was he kidding.

Everyone loved Pietro Maximoff. There literally was no person in their school that didn't.  
Everyone wanted to either be him or fuck him.  
There actually were polls on that.  
Pietro was the fastest person in the whole school, probably the whole knew that and with that profession, naturally, the guy had a body that looked as though it was sent by heaven.  
It also helped that he had a, quite sexy accent and was one of the most charming, as well as adorable but also sexy and seductive men on earth.  
Clint had seen him shirtless once before and it took him all his willpower to make sure he wouldn't suggest they have hot sex in the changing rooms. Repeatedly. In every position they could think of.  
The male shook his head at those thoughts, not willing to let them get even further into his mind.  
A boner was the last thing he needed at the moment.  
He once more continued eating his lunch, trying to use it as a distraction so he wouldn't have any sinful thoughts about Pietro Maximoff.  
Suddenly then, someone appeared beside him, making him want to roll his eyes and ask what they want.

Before he could do so though, a familiar voice began talking:  
"So, you're Clint Barton, eh?"  
The male's eyes widened and he looked up only to be greeted by the gorgeous face and hot accent that never seemed to leave his head since the first time he'd heard it.  
"Clint Barton?" Pietro repeated "The archer?"  
Clint nodded, disguising that the way the Sokovian had said his name in that delicious accent had caused shivers to run down his spine.  
"What do you want, kid?"  
Pietro chuckled softly "I'm not a kid." he said and raised an eyebrow. "I think you know that quite well, Barton."  
"Oh, really? You think?" Clint was genuinely confused though well, the other didn't need to know that, right?  
"I've seen you." Pietro began then, a smug grin on lips. "I've seen the way you look at me and I really don't want it to go to waste."  
Clint almost spew out the water which he had just taken a sip of, though he managed to will it down and simply frowned.  
"In your dreams, kid." he said and shook his head, determined that he wouldn't let this kid do this to him, not even though he's hot as hell.  
Pietro only smirked at that response.

"No, not really. In my dreams there's far less looking. More touching."  
Clint was speechless for a second and Pietro's smirk grew.  
"How about we test that theory though? Pick me up at seven. We'll see what happens. Touching like we both know you want it to happen or rather just looking. It's all your choice."  
The runner slipped a piece of paper onto the table and in front of Clint.  
"My address. Don't be too late." he said and winked, then turned around and left, giving Clint no time to answer.  
The archer stared at the piece of paper, his eyes still wide with surprise, though he quickly contained it.  
"Did that just really happen?" he asked, looking at Natasha, not believing that he got asked out by the hottest guy in school.  
The woman though simply smirked and nodded "Yes, yes it did, Barton. Better do as he says then." she chuckled slightly.  
"Your face was priceless, by the way." she then added.  
Clint looked at her and shook his head "What a cocky bastard." he mumbled and frowned slightly.  
His best friend though raised an eyebrow "Cocky bastard, yes but I know you and you'll go to that date." she said simply.  
Clint agreed. "I need to show him not to mess with me."  
With a roll of her eyes, Natasha stood, taking her tray.  
"Yes, of course you will." she said sarcastically.  
"Maybe by doing exactly as he predicted in his dreams?" she then asked with a teasing chuckle. "Because I really doubt that you'll do it in any other way."  
Now the archer was the one who rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up, Nat." he said, a small pout on his lips.  
Of course he knew exactly how the last time seeing the Sovokian in a secluded area had gone and Pietro Maximoff seemed to know exactly how to push all his buttons.  
Not that he would do something without the guy's consent of course but that consent seemed to be there so if it really was, the archer knew he would barely be able to control himself.  
Clint stood as well, putting his litter onto the tray as he sighed.  
"Lets just go to class, okay?" he asked and Natasha shrugged.  
"As you wish, future Mister Maximoff." she mocked and fled quickly, tucking her tray away as she waited for Clint to do the same.  
Natasha was surprised though as she saw that instead of biting on and giving her a snarky remark back, the only thing the archer did, was glare at her.  
Maybe he had to admit that Clint Maximoff didn't actually sound too bad.


End file.
